


The Shattered Sun: A Ravnica story

by itskittypryde



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Magic: The Gathering (Card Game), Magic: The Gathering - Duels of the Planeswalkers (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica, Intrigue, Lost Love, No Lesbians Die, Paladins, Political Alliances, Ravnica (Magic: The Gathering), Return to Ravnica, Sapphic, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itskittypryde/pseuds/itskittypryde
Summary: To Robin Zenogar, Ravnica has always been home. Her life as a defense paladin for the Boros Legion has been, so far, peaceful. But every Ravnican citizen knows how precariously balanced peace always is in their world. And the relative peace of the City of Ravnica is soon disrupted by rumours that old House Dimir leaders are on the rise – leaders that, by all accounts, should not be alive. The past is chasing everyone, and Robin in particular: a certain someone from her youth has been sighted crossing through planes of existence, and memories that she had struggled to leave behind will soon catch up with her.The Shattered Sun is a story about secrets, sapphic old love, planeswalkers, intrigue, disenchantment, and lots, lots of undead.
Relationships: Elspeth Tirel & MC
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can find a character moodboard for Robin here: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/itskittypryde/oc-robin-zenogar/

Robin tasted dust. The air was thick with ash and soil, the burning sun of autumn rusting the armour of the dead.

She felt embedded into the ground, sprawled and unmovable. She slowly opened her eyes, then swiftly covered them with one hand, blinded by the midday rays on her skin. The world felt heavy, heavy, heavy around her. Through the corner of her eye, she could see her helmet, and further away, shining shields stained with blood and dropped swords which belonged to no one now. Like their previous owners, she was also lying somewhere on that plain. Unlike them, she had survived to see another day.

Blood-stained angels flew above her and the battlefield corpses, floating back to the city. Robin caught a glimpse of her high commander and the leader of the army, Guildmaster Aurelia, wrapped in a gold helmet and carrying a white standard with a red sun and a closed fist stamped on it. They had vanquished their enemies, as per, but it had not been an easy job. Robin’s army was efficient on sprawling terrain such as this plain, on the outskirts of the capital, but the joint forces of the Gruul Clan cyclops and the guild-less soldiers put up a fight. They had lost many more than they had expected.

Still, it was time to retreat and recover, to drag oneself back to the walls of the city and heal wounds. Robin had to get up, at some point before the sun set at least. She rolled over as well as she could, her broad shoulder plates making everything much harder than it could have been, and pushed herself onto her knees. It was fine, it would be fine. She didn’t have any open wounds, but her whole body hurt and she could imagine the darkness of the bruises that would grow on her for the following week. Her hair, normally a bright, almost-orange strawberry blonde mass of waves, was stuck together in clumps. Grease and sweat and mud made it heavy. She did not even have her mount with her – they had fought together for a while, but the large bird had left her when they were encircled for a moment, and for all she knew, it was either dead or already back in the city. She would have to walk. And oh, what an awful thing to consider, the dreaded walk after every single battle. In her army, no one helped you get back. If you were lucky enough to get in the ranks of the Boros Legion, you had to fend for yourself from then on. Not that Robin lacked friends, but it was just the way it was: in Boros, you picked yourself back up. Again, and again, and again. And so Robin picked up her helmet, though it pained her to carry even more weight, and started back the way she had come.

Now that she was standing, she saw the amount of bodies strewn across the field. There were so many of her fellow fighters, birds and horses and men and leonins; not even the angels had been spared. Some bodies were being carried back, but they were a minority: you had to be someone to deserve a proper burial. Dust settled slowly. The sun kept scorching. Blood flowed into the earth, though it was impossible to think anything could fertilise and grow in those lands. Ravnica had long been barren. Robin tried not to identify any faces. She could deal with that once she was home.

The clattering of her full suit of gold plate followed her all the way to the Boros Legion guildgate, a contraption of brown stone and red brick with a wide, angular archway. It was the northernmost gate of the capital, allowing and regulating passage into Precinct Four. From the gate’s archway hung a heavy, black wrought-iron portcullis, ready to drop in case of attack. Above the archway rose the Boros’s symbol, the same radiant sun with a closed fist in its midst on the standard of the messenger angel Robin had seen flying back. The metal of the symbol had been reddened, not with rust but with a lacquered coat of pigment. It simultaneously welcomed one to the city and reminded them that the strength of the Legion was to be kept in mind, a gentle but ominous threat in the back of one’s mind. Turrets piled up on top of each other along the walls of the city, and all of them were square, with low tiled roofs of a dark terracotta. The windows, dotted everywhere, were little and narrow, a more functional homage to arrow slits. And the tallest towers stood to each side of the cut iron symbol. Of course, “tall” was a relative concept in Ravnica. The Boros guildgate was one of the five gates to the capital, but by no means the biggest. No one who had seen the high peaks of the Orzhov Syndicate’s towers or the far-reaching domes of the Azorius Senate could have qualified the Boros buildings as “tall.” But they were certainly impressive. Wide and solid, they inspired security and courage, and to Robin, they exuded a sense of calm which she hadn’t felt anywhere else for the longest time. She walked below the portcullis and into the district, a true military citadel that dissolved into a quotidian neighbourhood the further one walked into the capital. It was home. Save for a few years of her life, it had always been.

–––

She had her small quarters in the garrisons of Sunhome, the Boros centre of activity ten minutes away from the guildgate. They were modest, but Robin liked them. Lavish lifestyles made her uneasy, and besides, Sunhome was conveniently close to the Transguild Promenade, a central area populated by cafés, shops, and businesses of all sorts. She did not enjoy messing with other guilds in their own domains, and although most of the city was a diverse melting pot of all ten guilds, she was happy to live beside the closest thing to a neutral area. Live and let live, she told herself.

Robin walked up the light grey cobblestone steps of one of the bigger towers in Sunhome. There was nothing that she wanted more than to sit down again. Her armour weighed her down: no matter how many years of her life she spent wearing this suit for battle, she would always feel its weight upon her shoulders. However, if she sat down now, there would be no getting up. There were three things she needed to do beforehand. First of all, a shower.

She reached her apartment, Resurgence 3. She slipped a hand inside her leather boot and grabbed a small key, trying not to get caught in the metal sabaton. Wooden door unlocked, a familiar warmth wrapped her as she walked in. Her apartment had the smell of worn leather, feather pillows and cold coal of lived-in, comfortable homes. She sighed, tired but happy. All Sunhome apartments were furnished similarly: there was a double bed at the far end of the room with a closet and a chest of drawers on each side of it. Above the chest of drawers stood a wide window overlooking one of the main quads, far below. Then, a desk and a cabinet, to the left of the door, with a floor lamp between them. To the right of the door, two small rooms stemmed from the main one: a little kitchen, though Robin loved walking down to the Sunhome Mess Hall for food, and the shower cubicle. And in the middle of her apartment, two armchairs and a coffee table.

Robin sat down on a stool by the kitchen door and left her helmet by her feet. She didn’t want to stain her other, fancier seating. Slowly, she removed each piece of armour from her body. The greaves went first; then vambraces, shoulder plate, chest plate. It always took her a good half an hour to get it all off. It didn’t matter, though – with each golden plate she removed, she felt lighter, the emotional weight of each battle left behind piece by piece. She needed the separation. She didn’t want to be a fighter every second of every day.

Complicated machinery in her shower cubicle shone with the midday light. It called to her, unsurprisingly. The blessing of clean, running water was something everybody in the City of Ravnica was able to enjoy. For how much the Izzet annoyed them with their lack of patience, she had to give it to them: their services, and the fact they happily shared them, were a wonderful privilege. She turned on the shower head and lost herself to the warmth and comfort. When she was done, she dried herself and, still naked save the towel around her, opened her cabinet and grabbed a couple of bottles and plenty of bandages. She sat down on her bed and dedicated the following hour to examine her bruises. She applied a numbing salve to all of them, and protected the worst affected areas with bandages. Once that was taken care of, she dressed in a loose-fitting cream poet shirt and a pair of brown trousers. Over the first layer of clothing she threw on a dark red sleeveless tabard with embroidered accents and the golden sun of the Boros on her chest. Finally, her leather shoulder armour, and two crossed leather belts with a few pouches and her rapier hanging from them.

By the time her battle suit of armour was clean and gleaming again, Robin was almost starving. She had supplies to cook something for herself, or she could go down to the Mess Hall, but she grabbed a small pack of crackers instead and decided to walk down to the Promenade. They had been victorious that morning, which wasn’t necessarily a given. Every time Robin went out to battle, she knew that might be the time she couldn’t make it back. Just for that, she thought, she deserved a treat. And she knew exactly which of the lovely cafés on the Transguild Promenade would do.


	2. Chapter 2

“Burdock’s Brews,” the sign hanging from the brick wall said. The wooden plaque was stuck on an iron piece, that in turn hung from two bars bracketed to the façade of the building. The breezy afternoon made it swing back and forth, but no squeaking could be heard. Burdock, the owner of the establishment, made sure to polish it every day – if not him, then one of his assistants. Robin let a party of goblins step out, holding the door open for the little creatures, then stepped inside by crossing the double door made of wood and stained glass panels. The café was bustling with life, colourful as only Ravnica at its best could be. Guild colours blended into one another, guild members mixing and socialising. Burdock’s café was a very respected establishment. It had never bent to the gentrifying pressure of the Orzhov church, who controlled most hospitality venues around the Tenth District Plaza. Precinct One was a politically important neighbourhood, being so close to the Chamber of the Guildpact where the Ravnicans had once agreed to provide and receive collective support from all ten guilds. So of course, of course the Orzhov wanted to drive small businesses out of the area. But Burdock had never given in, and the people loved him for it. For that, and for his plaited breads, of course.

Robin scouted for a table and found one in a corner, a small round thing that rocked if you moved it too much. The two chairs on opposite sides were mismatched: all the furniture items had been salvaged and refurbished by Burdock’s wife, Belladonna, making the place homely and quaint. She removed her belts and hung them from the back of her chair, after grabbing the pouch attached to one of them: in this central district, no one would dare steal from a Boros commander in plain sight. Not if they wanted to avoid having to deal with the lawmages and the enforcers of the Azorius. Robin then got up and went to order. A small wooden counter was flanked by two display windows. One was refrigerated with the newest Izzet technology, Robin could tell, and it held savoury meals, spiced pies and other sorts of lunch foods. In the nonrefrigerated window display were Burdock’s renowned delicacies: his sweet breads and pastries. The whole place smelt of fresh bakes and caramelised flowers, and most of that smell came from here. His most famous confection was the rose and sugared burdock brioche, which drove people from all confines of Ravnica on pilgrimages. Or so Burdock liked to claim. However, many other lovely offerings competed for the attention of the customers. There was a pile of violet muffins with purple swirls of syrup, all stacked impossibly; soft almond croissants; lavender and chocolate twists; a wide and glistening apricot and thyme tart; a honey, fig and cardamom loaf, and a tray of sugared doughnuts, bursting with lemon and rosemary cream filling. There really was something for everybody. Behind the counter, a worn and scrubbed white symbol depicting a tree with many branches was surrounded by shelves packed with jars and boxes. The business technically received subsidies from the Selesnya, but this was only on paper. Burdock liked to consider himself an independent man, thank you very much, and did not follow the morals or ideals of any guild in particular. He was loved by all of them, after all.

“How are you doing, Miss Zenogar?” Belladonna said from the coffee machine. She knew Robin’s coffee order by heart at that point.

“Not too shabby, not too shabby. This morning we nearly were overpowered out in the fields, believe it or not.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry to hear it.”

Robin shrugged, putting on a smile. “We came out of it decently. I’m not mad.”

“That’s better. I believe in you and your angel bosses, or however you guys call them. Same as always, milky plain coffee?”

“Yes, thank you. And whatever you have for lunch that you recommend, please, Belladonna.”

“Sure thing, coming up.”

Robin pulled five little gold coins from her pouch and set them on the counter. “Will five zinos be enough?”

“More than enough, Miss Zenogar! Let me find–”

“Keep the change,” Robin said with a chuckle. “I’m feeling good today. I could be wounded or dead, so I’m celebrating.”

“Very well, then!” Belladonna replied.

“Give my regards to your husband as well,” Robin said, pointing at Burdock, who was waiting tables and taking every chance he could to make conversation. “I’ll be over there at the corner table.”

While Robin waited for her food, she spent a few moments people-watching. The sunlight filtered through a colourful hexagonal skylight on the ceiling, making everybody’s faces glitter. It was going to be a lovely day, she had decided. She loved stopping at cafés like Burdock’s because they reminded her of how wildly diverse the place she was living in was. As a Boros soldier, it was very easy to stick to her colours, her army’s fortresses, and not see beyond them. The uniform mass of red, white and gold represented safety to her –though she saw the irony in it, given their constant battles–, but it didn’t present much space for individuality. However, in the Tenth District, the capital proper, one only needed to pay a minimum of attention to find radically different minds, morals and even fashion styles. Elves with greenish skin wearing blue tunics gossiped by the entrance, not quite wanting to leave; two loxodon priests nodded with their wise, bejeweled elephant heads over their cups of tea. Small vedalken kids ran around while their parents, composed and modest, picked at a plate of salty nuts and made conversation. Robin loved it. She had lived through a lot, for her young age. Still in her late twenties, and she had seen so much, been to so many places. But she had never seen as much as she had in Ravnica. Her place of birth. Her first true love.

The food was delicious. Or at least, so it seemed. Belladonna brought over her big mug of coffee and a plate with a steaming meat pie. “It’s marinated pork and pear,” she said, visibly proud of it. “I made them this morning.” A thick, dark red gravy dripped off the pie and onto a pile of oven-roasted vegetables. On the side, she had two little slices of warm bread, lightly toasted. A younger waiter brought over an empty glass and a carafe full of crystal clear water, courtesy of the Simic Combine, who purified it for the whole city. When she cut into the pie, a herby, sweet scent wafted up. And when she tasted it, she confirmed what she already knew: it was, indeed, delicious.

Thus was Robin dazed, when someone sat at her table. The other chair squeaked a little when the man pulled it out, and again when he scooched over. 

“I see you’ve let Burdock and Belladonna entrance you again with their treats, huh?” he said.

“Shio! You made it!”

“Of course I made it, who do you think I am?”

Shio Maeda was a man in bright red and blue. He tied some of his long black hair back, and his long coat, in reddish leather with vertical wide stripes of blue cloth, had a myriad of pockets everywhere. Mostly on the inside, but Robin could just _tell_. The Izzet League adored pockets. Over the coat, he wore a strange contraption that would have looked like a bronze chest plate, if not for the thin metal pipes that looped around Shio’s shoulders and back. They connected a bulky piece of machinery that he wore like a backpack –and emitted steam every so often– with Shio’s left leg, a bronze prosthetic that moved exactly like his other leg, though it did make a little bit more noise. The leather coat had eyelets in all the right places, so that the pieces of metal could go both over and under the coat. All in all functional, though not discreet whatsoever. And that was part of the fun of it. Robin and Shio had become friends as teenagers, back when they had become part of the guilds. Robin’s rigorous training had always been too much for Shio, and she had never understood his constant, nonstop verve and urges to discover, fabricate, test out. They admired each other for qualities they would never have, and over the years they had found ways to work together.

“I see you’ve already gone ahead and started eating,” Shio said, eyebrows raised.

“Come on. Cut me some slack. I had a tough morning.”

“I’ve already had lunch anyway.” He got up and went over to the displays to choose something to eat, and quickly returned with two slices of the honey, fig and cardamom loaf on little silvery plates. Shortly after, a waiter brought over a cup of black tea and a tiny jug of milk that Shio poured into the tea.

“A slice for you. If you want,” Shio said.

“Why, thank you. I feel like I’m already full and I’m not even halfway through the pie… I’ll give it time,” Robin said, sipping from her mug of coffee. “Glad you’re alive, by the way.”

“Likewise. You probably had more chances of not making it today than me, from what I’ve heard.”

“Not sure about that. I still maintain, with that obsession of you Izzet wildcards of not properly testing anything before using it… who knows what can happen from one day to the next.”

“Well, I can say that my own projects at least are going well,” Shio said. “We haven’t had problems at the lab in the past week, can you believe it?”

“That’s great, Shio, I’m really glad. I properly worry, you know.” At this, Shio gave an apologetic smile. “Does that mean the wall reinforcement technology is on its way, then?”

“It’s happening, for sure, just not as fast as we’d hope,” he said, between sips. “Two of my apprentices are not really pulling their weight – they have too many projects of their own that they are excited about, which means we are much slower than we should be. I hope our investors don’t decide they now want to micromanage it all. The less they know about that, the better.”

Shio was one of the project directors in a group that was working on one of the Izzet League’s most innovative ideas. The walls of the City of Ravnica were safe and solid, but the guildless could be tumultuous. Even though the Boros were there to provide support and defend the city, one never knew what could bloom in the most remote of Ravnican settlements. Therefore, three guilds had united their forces. The Orzhov Syndicate, being the ones with the money, had financed the Izzet League, who would develop a new technomantic system of reinforcements for the city walls. In turn, the Boros Legios had been tasked with supervising the construction of it, and in time, its maintenance. And one of the reasons Shio and Robin were meeting was to give each other updates on the endeavour.

“I’m sure the Orzhov oligarchs have much better things to worry about. Which dead spirit they can now extort real money from, for example,” Robin said, pushing a lock of ginger curls off her face. She dipped her last bit of pork and pear pie in the gravy, ate it and chewed for a few moments. Then, she continued. “Don’t worry. There is no specific timeline for the project. Apart from some Gruul insurrections, we haven’t had much in the way of an actual threat to the integrity of the guilds.”

“That’s nice to hear, Robin. Still, it bothers me. Those boys I’m supervising need to step it up if they want to stay in the lab long enough to graduate and go into an actual artificer job.”

“Then don’t be as soft with them.”

“I’m not!” the man laughed. He lifted a pinky finger. “I promise, I’m not soft on them. They’re not dragons but they grew among them, so you can imagine the ordeal.”

“Right. That’s fair, I suppose.”

“Either way. Here is a properly written report, just so you have something to give Kaalia when you meet her next.” 

The man slid a cardboard folder over the table, though there wasn’t much space considering they had three plates and two cups already on the surface and the table was little. Robin picked it up and put it on her lap until Belladonna came to clear whatever was empty. She’d leave a note on Kaalia’s office that she’d go see her the following morning. Kaalia was Robin’s mentor in the Legion. She was not an angel, and therefore not an army leader or head of strategy, but she was a wise leader and, in war, a respected commander. After all, she had fought in many an important battle, including the decamillennial celebration twelve years before, when House Dimir had staged a coup against the other guilds in an attempt to seize control of Ravnica. Kaalia had been one of the few Boros frontline humans to have survived the battle. Robin, needless to say, had always admired the woman. Now that she was getting older, Kaalia preferred to supervise inner city projects, and so she had asked Robin for assistance in overseeing the technomantic wall reinforcement. She’d be happy about the report, and most likely, not too mad about the delay.

“Let me know if there is anything she requires on top of this as well. I’m not doing the hardcore experimenting anymore,” Shio added. “Not sure I like the admin role, you know.”

“You’ll be okay,” Robin said, shrugging. “They pay you well, don’t they?”

“Definitely. That’s the good thing about it all. But listen, Robin – that’s not the main reason I wanted to see you today.”

“Ah, I mean… surely it was more for my excellent company than anything else, right?”

“Look: I think there have been sights of her,” Shio said. “Rumours fly here. The Dimir know it all. A friend told me.”

“Her? What are you trying to get at?”

“I mean _her_ her, Robin. You know.”

Robin shook her head lightly. She did not quite get what Shio was saying. Deep down in her heart, a siren started yelling. But on surface level, she was dumbfounded.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she managed. 

Shio leaned over the table, dark locks of hair brushing Robin’s cheek as he whispered in her ear. Robin did not want to hear it, because she knew what he was going to say. She knew what it was going to be, and yet she prayed for it not to be what she imagined. Surely not. Surely not, after all this time. 

Shio only said one name.

“Elspeth.”

And that was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready to see me throw the actual timelines of the official lore out the window... xx

**Province of Valeron, region of Bant, Alara Restored. Five years earlier**

  
  


“Elspeth!”

A young woman of twenty-one ran down the white stone corridor, red cloak trailing behind her. Late evening sunlight slipped through the tall, three-pointed arch windows. The palace was winding down, but she did not show any signs of giving into its lull. Her strawberry blonde hair seemed to glow as the radiance bounced off her curls. It was summer, and the sun set late.

“Elspeth!” the woman yelled again, joyful.

The corridor ended in a wide balcony overlooking a garden. She leaned on the balustrade, catching her breath. The evening breeze tangled in her robes, clean and fresh and new. She could already see Elspeth’s figure running down a marble staircase, without looking back, heading for the beach at the end of the palace gardens. Her dark hair was cropped to her shoulders, flittering in the wind, and her shoulder plate, the only piece of armour she wore, sparkled silver. The sun teased the waves there, at the end of the sea, far as one’s sight could go. It would set soon, but for now, it merely tickled the horizon.

“Come on, Robin!” Elspeth stopped by the flower beds and turned around to urge her on. “They’re going to leave, and we will miss it!”

Robin only managed to catch up with her once she had left the gardens behind. They stopped together, panting and smirking at each other.

“I knew you’d notice I was gone,” Elspeth said.

“Don’t be so smug. Next time it’ll be me who disappears to the grove, and you won’t find me for days.”

“Oh, what ever will I do!” she cried, trying not to betray her laughter. “Come on. Lisha and her ship will be waiting for us. I told her we’d go say bye.”

They made the rest of the journey by foot, their hands tentatively close. Not quite, Robin thought. Not yet, Elspeth said to herself. Tonight, maybe, they figured. The beach was long and thin, a slab of soft white sand hemmed to the lush greenery of Valeron. There was a castle on a cliff, atop one of the high grey precipices. Turrets sprung from tall stone buildings, one of them functioning as a lighthouse. Peaks and angles dominated the architecture, and the place exuded the rightful magnificence that it required as the home of the aven royals, the bird humanoid race which had reigned in Bant for millennia. The evening light bathed it all in reverence. 

Robin and Elspeth traced the farthest edge of the beach towards the castle, close to the gardens, until they arrived at the royal port of Valeron, positioned snugly under the cliffs. They protected the ships from storms that might come from overseas: Valeron was a province that enjoyed very calm weather, most of the time. Any trouble, its citizens liked to joke, would always, always come from overseas. Elspeth and Robin liked to think of it differently, though: any excitement they might come across,  _ that _ would come from overseas, for sure. It got lonely, sometimes, among all these old champions and guardians of peace. So this time, the two young knights had come to see a vessel march off to sea instead. They were good friends of Lisha, the captain of the ship, even though the privateer was at least ten years older than them. Lisha of the Azure liked to piss off the Jhessians by stealing from them, over on the other side of this sea, and Valeron did not like the Jhessians, and therefore Valeron liked Lisha. That was pretty much it.

The sand was soft and pleasant when Robin stepped on it, barefoot with sandals in hand. It had warmed up during the day as well. Elspeth and her tried to run to the  _ Sunspray _ , Lisha’s frigate, but their feet sank too much. They walked instead. By the time they reached the ship, Lisha was waiting for them, arms crossed and leaning back against the prow. 

“About time, young ladies,” she said, tipping her tricorn hat in gleeful deference. “Was thinking you wouldn’t show up.”

“Never, Lisha,” Robin said.

Elspeth pointed at the ship. “It looks beautiful… different.”

“Right?” the captain agreed. “I had people go over the outside with a waterproof coat of lacquer. Now, when the dawn hits the planks, it shines. Now, anybody I might encounter at sea, whether friend or foe,  _ knows _ who I am.”

“You sure love to make an entrance,” Elspeth chuckled. “Your audacity is almost admirable.”

The pirate wore a long coat over a billowy black blouse. The coat was too worn to distinguish any specific colour it might have originally been – though it did have hints of teal. It was nonetheless elegant and embroidered, and it flapped against her polished black leather boots that stopped right below her knees. Her hat, of matching black as well, had a single, long curling blue feather as its only decoration. Lisha’s blond hair was undone, though she had plaited some strands of it close to her face. She winked at them.

“Well,” she said, “When you’ve been on the job for as many years as I have, you get reckless.” She paused, before adding: “Or powerful. You choose.”

Robin laughed at that. “Definitely powerful. A bit too reckless for your own good, maybe.”

“And yet, my young friend, I bet you’ve thought I could take you with me – if not today, the possibility must have popped into your heads at some point. Pardon my audacity, ladies, but this province has always seemed to me frighteningly boring…” She threw her head back in fake despair.

“It’s home to me,” Elspeth muttered, and Robin could make out a slight blush on her cheeks, even in the glow of dusk. “I’m probably more boring than you anyway, Lisha.”

“You’re not boring, Elspeth,” Robin said. “Just because we haven’t seen much of the world…”

“I’m pulling your leg,” Lisha said. “Though one day you might want to visit this young knight’s country,” she patted Robin on the shoulder, “and then maybe you’ll let me sail you to Ravnica.”

Robin was confused for a second, before she realised the captain did not mean it literally – one could simply not sail to Ravnica, as it was a different plane of existence. Complicated rituals were involved, among other headaches. But she looked over at her friend, and saw sparks in her eyes. Robin was not aware that Elspeth was this interested in Ravnica. She had never mentioned it before, and yet now she nodded vigorously with her head. Robin liked the way her pale skin blended with the sunset, now decidedly moving to an array of orange, pink, purple colours. She had chances to watch her best friend often, but it was always the unexpected ones that threw her, always the unexpected chances to truly see her that made her stomach jump. Or something.

“Either way,” Lisha said, breaking a silence she was aware wasn’t hers. “It was lovely seeing you girls, but I must away. My wife will be waiting, and you know she doesn’t like to sail out late.”

“Give her regards!” Elspeth said. “Maybe one day we will, indeed, let you sail us to Ravnica.”

“Have a good journey, Lisha. Thank you for waiting and letting us come say bye!”

“You two have a good one as well, my lovelies.”

And with a wide salute, the woman clambered up the rope ladder that by then was the only manner of access to the ship, and disappeared behind a banister of dark, gleaming walnut wood. Robin and Elspeth looked at each other, smirked as if in the know of a secret, then watched the ship as it came to life. A constant rumble below dock rose in volume; ropes started sliding up and down poles and masts; the sails, which were already up, caught wind at last, blowing up like hot air balloons. A long flag was lifted: deep blue with a black trim and a black sword printed in the midst of it, parallel to the horizontal edges of the flag. The flag of the Azure, Lisha’s crew. The Azure, who obeyed no one but freedom and equality. Robin and Elspeth loved them.

–––

Back at the palace, the halls and rooms were much warmer than before they had left. Several fires glowed in their respective hearths, and the two young women chose a small dining room close to their quarters, which they had been frequenting often. Two servants brought them several plates of food: plates of roast potatoes, carrots, and asparagus with knobs of melting butter on them; a plate of brisket which they carved into at the table, serving them very fine slices of it; a salad with bright purple berries and white cheese; glasses of raspberry wine. 

“Thank you, Aile,” Robin said, as the cook, a woman in her fifties, put down the bottle with the rest of the wine. “This looks delicious.”

They ate in silence, both of them – partly because they were too polite to speak with their mouth full, partly because the more time they spent together, the more reverent they had become around each other. Every once in a while, they’d look up, nod in agreement at how tasty their meal was, then look down again and continue eating. A strange dynamic had settled between Robin and Elspeth, one that only heightened as time went on. Whatever “heightening” might mean.

“Did you ever have raspberry wine, in your country?” Elspeth asked Robin. They had never felt the need to fill in the silence before, and yet.

“In Ravnica, you mean? I don’t know, maybe.” She took some of the brisket to her mouth, then sipped from her glass, savouring the sweetness. “I was very little when the commander sent me over here. You’re only given wine when you grow up a bit.”

“Yes, you’re right. I don’t know why I asked, I–”

“No!” Robin said, a little too loud, and compensated with a smile. “It’s okay. You… it’s okay. It’s nice wine.”

They did not live on their own at this palace, but it felt like it most of the time. The only other noblepeople in the forest palace of Valeron were knights and soldiers. Rafiq of the Many owned the place: he was commander of the Knights of the Reliquary, the highest military order in Bant. He was not often around, but his most promising and highest-ranking knights had the honour of living at the palace too. Once, Ajani, one of Elspeth’s mentors, had lived with her here, but for now it was mostly Rafiq and his protegées. Robin and Elspeth had both trained under Rafiq, the two of them rising through the ranks impressively quickly, and so they’d been taken in by him completely. Of course, they all later found out about Elspeth’s abilities: her spark had ignited long ago, way before she’d got to Valeron, and so on and so forth. To Robin, she wasn’t just her biggest ally in battle, thanks to the hours and hours they had trained together in order to achieve the armour sigils that marked them as knights of renown: she was also her closest friend. Probably the person she trusted the most. And she could not deny that over the years, that trust had developed. Into what, she did not quite know. It was yet to be seen.

“Can you pass the carrots?” Elspeth asked, reaching out. Robin handed over the plate. Their hands brushed, for a second too long. Elspeth’s hand was warm to the touch, Robin thought. They both looked away, and the plate clattered as it was put down on the table.

Another silence, stretching out. Within her own head, Robin was frantic. She was not used to feeling like a teenager. Twenty-one years of age was very much adulthood, too far into it for her social skills to disappear the way they did around Elspeth Tirel. She had been so busy attempting to become the best knight she could be, for the sake of the Boros Legion who had given her a home as a child, that she had forgotten about any social interactions that did not involve allyship and friendship. Everything else seemed a world away.

“You looked… interested,” Robin said. “When Lisha suggested going to Ravnica. Were you interested?”

The other woman looked down, pensive. “I was interested. I was curious. I’ve never been.”

“I assume people don’t cross planes as tourism, though. Can’t blame you.” Robin giggled to diffuse… who knew what. Her chuckle sounded hollow.

“Maybe one day, like she said.”

“You would do it? It’s effort, it’s a long way. I don’t know if you’d like it. It’s not as peaceful as...”  _ Not as peaceful as you, _ Robin wanted to say. “Not as peaceful as it is here.”

“Right. Well. It’s a part of your life, so I’m interested nonetheless.” She looked determined, and her eyes seemed to spark again, the way they had sparked at the beach.

“That’s – that’s lovely of you to say, Elspeth.”

“It’s the truth.” Her eyes darted all around, everywhere but Robin. “Now eat your carrot.”


End file.
